Kyra knelt on the stone as she had all night long, her legs numb, so lost in meditation that she no longer felt her body. She had slipped into a strange state where it had become hard for her to distinguish reality from fantasy, and she could no longer tell if she was awake or asleep as she slowly opened her eyes and looked out at the black sky, the million twinkling red stars, and most of all, the visage of her mother. There she was, in a flowing white robe, with startling blue eyes and long blonde hair, ascending the temple steps, approaching her, as if she had been awaiting her forever.
Kyra, breathless, studied her mother’s face as she neared. It was a beautiful, timeless face, with her fine features, chiseled cheekbones, and haunting eyes, eyes that Kyra could find something of herself in. In her flowing, white gown, she seemed to float up the stairs, seemed to hover just before Kyra, just out of reach, smiling back sweetly.
“You have lost your way,” her mother said, her voice so soft yet echoing throughout the empty city. It was a voice that resonated within Kyra’s soul, one that she had always longed to hear. It restored her just to hear it.
“What is the way, Mother?” Kyra pleaded. “No one has ever taught me.”
Her mother smiled back.
“That is because you must teach it to yourself,” she replied. “The warrior does not look outward for others to train her; she looks inward. You look outward, Kyra, always, for external recognition. You search for approval, for fame, for weaponry, for teachers, for mentors. That is all an illusion, Kyra. None of them will help you. Look inside. That is the hardest journey of all.”
Kyra frowned, struggling to understand.
“I…” she began, “don’t know who I am, Mother.”
Her mother took a deep breath. Kyra’s heart pounded with anticipation as there followed a long silence, filled with nothing but the howling of the wind.
“What is it within you that you refuse to face?” her mother finally asked.
Kyra struggled with the question. As soon as her mother asked it, Kyra knew this was the question she had been grappling with all night long, the answer just out of her reach. She knew her mother was right: she was striving for approval and recognition, external ways to better herself. Her mind was so focused on the outside world, it was hard to focus internally.
“You must empty your mind, Kyra,” her mother said. “You must unlearn everything you know.”
Kyra tried, but felt she could not. Instead, she found herself distracted by a million thoughts.
“How, Mother?”
Her mother sighed.
“Stop trying to see the world for what you think it is. See it instead for what it truly is. For what it is right now, in this moment. The world right now is not what it will be a minute from now, and it is not what it was a minute ago. It is ever-changing. What do you see in the now?”
Kyra pondered her mother’s question and she felt a warmth rising within her as she began to realize the truth of her mother’s words. She realized she had always tried so hard to grasp onto everything, to understand it. And in that preliminary understanding, she realized now, she had lost all chance of understanding. The second she knew something, her knowledge was no longer true. The state she needed to strive for, she realized, was a state of continual open mind. A state of continual not knowing.
Kyra closed her eyes and dwelled on it. As Kyra knelt there, dwelling in her mother’s meditation, she felt a warmth spreading within her, overtaking her, as she slowly felt herself filled with clarity.
After a long silence, Kyra opened her eyes, filled with understanding and excited by it.
“The true warrior,” Kyra said, looking back excitedly, “knows nothing. He knows that the only battle is within one’s self. The outside world is illusion.”
Her mother finally smiled wide.
“Yes, my daughter.”
Kyra felt the warmth continuing to spread within her, while at the same moment, the sky became filled with color. The sun began to creep over the horizon, a sliver of dawn breaking over the vast night sky. It was as if the world were waking with her. The sun and the moon hung opposite each other in the sky, the stars still between them, and Kyra knew something special was happening. She felt a power coursing through her, and for the first time, she no longer felt any lingering doubts. It was as if a veil had been lifted from the universe. Her source of power, she realized, came from her understanding.
As Kyra closed her eyes, dwelling in her enlightenment, an image flashed in her mind’s eye—a baby dragon. It opened its eyes, shining, their light so intense that she gasped. She was confused to realize it was not Theos. It was a baby dragon. And far more powerful. She felt an instant connection to it.
She could feel its pain, its wounds, its clinging to life. And as she stared back in her mind’s eye, she willed herself to heal it. To summon it.
There flashed through her mind another image: a weapon. She frowned, struggling to visualize it.
“What is it I am seeing?” Kyra asked.
There came a long silence, until finally her mother replied: “The dragon wakes. And the Staff of Truth beckons you.”
“The Staff of Truth?” Kyra asked, puzzled.
“The one weapon that can save us.”
Kyra, confused, tried to bring the picture into focus.
“I see it atop a mountain of ash,” she said. “In a land that burns with sulfur and fire.”
“It is you, Kyra,” her mother said. “It is you who must go there and retrieve the weapon.”
“But where?” Kyra asked. “Where is this weapon? Where must I journey?”
There came a long silence, until finally her mother uttered a single word, a word that would change her life forever:
“Marda.”